


The Return Letter

by ofmessaline



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofmessaline/pseuds/ofmessaline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs. Saville's reaction to her brother, Robert Walton, sending her the manuscript of this wild tale told by a half-dead madman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Return Letter

**Author's Note:**

> From a school paper.

_To Mr. Walton, Last known location near the North Pole_

_England, Nov. 7, 17—_

 

My dear brother – I know that you entreated me not to write you, for the uncertainty with which you might receive it, but I feel that with everything you have sent me I absolutely must speak with you.

            For what insanity is in this? Dear brother, the manuscript that was enclosed in your last letter both astounds and terrifies me, as it does my husband. Such claims must be madness, be it from you or from that man you seemed so pleased to have met. Not everyone with the semblance of intelligence has it within them, brother, as I would have hoped you to understand with all your worldly knowledge.

            I must say that I am rather pleased to hear of the circumstances of his death, although perhaps that may be cruel. Such lunacy near you is hardly sustainable, Robert, and I would hope that he has not infected you with it as well – although with your words on the reappearance of the man’s “creature”, I remain unconvinced.

            Oh, come home, brother! It appears that you exploring the world has either gone to your head or destroyed it, I know not which. In either case, I would rather you returned to England and let me care for you, and that you never speak or think of that man and his delusions again.

            Although this is perhaps rather petty, I have to admit that I am rather put out by your lack of mentioning both yourself and myself in your last letter. Has that madman captured all of the sense of which you were renowned back home? Has he captured all of your easy manners and light sense, or has it been the sea that has taken your facilities? Either way, I must reiterate my plea for you to return home, where it is safe.

            Furthermore, I have arranged a meeting for you with a friend of my husband’s, one who specializes in cases such as yours and your friend. He lives in London, but do not let that put you out of spirits, brother – the institution with which he works is one of the best in all of England.

            I must warn you that it is the dearest wish of both myself and my husband that once you return to England, you stay in England. All of your supposed worldly travels are no good for you, brother, and I hope that one day you will understand that we implore this of you with only the most care and love at heart. You were always a sweet boy until the sea called your name, and I would rather claim you from those sirens before they can put any more nonsense into your head.

            I now suppose that the sea air is not as good for us as the doctors claim – for if it was, you would not be thus! But perhaps it is more due to the Northern climes of which you have been inhabiting, or of your detestable company.

            I also hope that you understand why I was worried that you go off on your own: you are too sweet for your own good, dear brother, and my nerves are fraught with want to see you cared for. Please, dear brother, if you have no regard for yourself or your own health, have some regard for mine. Even my husband worries for me in your prolonged absence and apparent instability. This will never do – you must return home at once! I feel it bears repeating, as you very rarely listen the first time I say anything at any rate, even though you seemed more than open about listening to that madman and clinging onto his ever syllable.

            That manuscript of which you most carefully sent me is gone – the insanity of everything within it all prompted my husband to throw it on the fire several nights past. I daresay that the both of us will sleep better without it, and once you come to your senses, you will see that we have done right in this situation.

            We only care for you, your safety, and your position, all of which can be very highly compromised by the object of which you formerly sent me.

            Dear brother, I entreat you, let us care for you. I know that perhaps I ruin your childhood dreams, but very rarely are the dreams of children meant to come to fruition. It is far safer for you at home, in the care of your family and friends. I hope you see it as plainly as I do.

Your affectionate and worried sister,

M. Saville


End file.
